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Namesake	By : lotusbalm Category: M through R > Mummy, The (All) > Mummy, The (All) Views: 5765 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy series and do not make any profit off of this.

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Namesake

Chapter 3

"Tiri, babycakes, come give your old man some love!" a deep, American accented voice rang out.

Tiri rolled her eyes, much to the dismay of Paolo, the professional makeup artist who was expertly lining her eyes with jet black kohl to give her the smokey eye effect for tonight's party. 'Urban rockstar meets sexy Egyptian Goddess' he called the look. "Uncle Will… You're not fooling anyone."

Her Uncle Will popped into her powder room. "How'd you know it was me?"

She turned in her seat to face him, Paolo weakly crying out in protest. "'Babycakes?' Seriously? Plus father never calls me Tiri."

"Damn," he said, snapping his fingers.

"But you both can call me anything you like," Laxmi butted in flirtatiously from her seat on Tiri's marble sink countertop.

Uncle Will took a staggered step back, cupping his hand over his heart as if struck by an arrow. He lowered his dark sunglasses for dramatic emphasis. "Laxmi Kattan? Is that you?"

Laxmi re-crossed her slim legs and batted her eyelashes sex-kittenishly. "The one and only," she purred.

"Wow," he said, nodding his head, his eyes drifting. "Wooooow."

Laxmi giggled. Tiri felt like she was going to wretch. "Ugh, get a room you two. Where's my dad?"

Uncle Will slid his shades back on all the way. "Downstairs pulling some strings, making some calls, getting everything set up for his beautiful baby girl… Happy birthday babycakes," he said, ruffling her hair, making her head move a bit. Paolo looked like he wanted to kill him.

"Hold still," the harried makeup artist barked in Italian.

"Jeez, and on that note, I leave this estroge—Whoa," Uncle Will said, leaning in to get a better look at Tiri. "Nice necklace! Raid a tomb recently? Oh wait, that actually happens in this family…"

Tiri apologized to Paolo in Italian before turning her attention back to her uncle. She gave a lopsided grin. "Thanks. Grandpa gave it to me as a present this morning. It was Great Grandma Evie's—and before that it was Queen Nefertiri's."

Uncle Will gave her a genuine smile. "It suits you."

"Yes it does," came the voice of her father, Brad O'Connell. "Happy birthday, love," he said, sliding his cell phone into his perfectly tailored slate grey trousers while stepping into the overcrowding powder room.

By this time Paolo had finished his artistry on Tiri's face with a flourish. He looked her over with a self-satisfied smile before promptly exiting the room, done with the unruly O'Connell clan. "I will send the bill to your crazy mummy-obsessed grandfather," he said over his shoulder, unrepentant.

Tiri had to laugh at Paolo's unabashed parting words. Everyone else in the room didn't speak Italian fluently so they just blinked and looked sort of lost.

"Hi Dad," Tiri said, coming down from her laugh. She rose up from her seat and they embraced in a hug.

"Look at you," her dad said, holding her away at arm's length after a long embrace to get a good look at her. "You're a woman!" he said with some surprise.

Tiri's cheeks blushed pink in embarrassment. "Thanks for the announcement, Dad. Might as well tell everyone that, yes, your daughter no longer has to wear band-aids instead of bras."

"Nope, those mosquito bites have finally turned into juicy, juicy little mangos," Laxmi said nonchalantly.

"Laxmi!" Tiri shrieked. "I curse the day you were born! May your giant boobs shrink into raisins!"

Laxmi snickered. Her father and uncle raised twin eyebrows in identical amused expressions.

Her father continued: "Uh…boobs and curses aside, I meant you as a whole have become a woman. You're not gangly anymore," he said wistfully. "You've got that hidden kiss at the corner of your mouth now, the one that holds all your feminine allure."

Uncle Will raised his sunglasses again and squinted. "Her what? …Ah, yes. Now that you mention it, Brad, I'm seeing it… Well, time to lock her up away in the highest tower and throw away the key."

Tiri ignored her uncle. She gave her dad another hug. He was referencing Peter Pan, something he had read to her time and again in her girlhood every time he had her, which had been every other summer. The author J. M. Barrie had described a hidden kiss that Wendy Darling's mother had at the corner of her mouth—something that young Wendy wanted terribly to have too someday. Tiri, seeing the beauty of her own mother and the women who caught her father's eye, knew that they all had that 'hidden kiss' that J. M. Barrie was talking about…and Tiri, just like Wendy, desperately wanted to have it as well. She kissed her dad's cheek. "Thank you, Dad."

"You're mother is going to absolutely hate what you did to your hair, by the way… Which is why I absolutely love it," her father said as an aside, talking about the turquoise streak at the nape of her neck.

"Yeah, you've got that whole rockstar vibe going on, Tiri," her uncle said, embracing both her and her father in a group hug. She and her dad burst out in laughter at his antics.

Laxmi joined in as well. "That's because Tiri is a rockstar."

"Aaaaw, thanks Laxmi," Tiri said. "You know I didn't really mean what I said about cursing your boobs to wither into raisins, right?"

"Duh. If you had meant the curse, it would have happened. It's all about the intent," Laxmi said breezily, the superstition behind her words palpable.

A wave of unease settled upon the small group. Everyone in the room knew the stories behind the O'Connell's vast wealth. Even if they were just stories, it was still creepy as hell to think of fabled curses such as the Hom-Dai, which Grandpa Alex had zealously related to them all at one point or another.

It was at that time that the hairstylist came in to steal the birthday girl away. Tiri's father and uncle left the room to deal with birthday details while Laxmi took her place back up on Tiri's granite sink countertop, chitchatting away with Tiri as the hairstylist teased Tiri's hair into a messy riot of sex-bomb curls.

"Oh, mon petit chéri, you look absolutely ravishing! Ze blue extension is cute," Tiri's mother said as she glided into the room as the hairstylist was packing up her equipment. She gave a charming ''allo' to acknowledge Laxmi in greeting.

"Hi, Mère! …It's not an extension," Tiri added uneasily as she embraced her mother. She felt her mum's thin frame tense.

"You mean that that thing is permanently in your hair?" her mother said, completely reverting to speaking rapid French. 'Oh Mum,' Tiri thought, 'how easily something you referred to as cute suddenly becomes just a thing.'

"Yes," Tiri answered back in French. "I did it as an early birthday present to myself. It's no big deal now that I'm out of school until Uni starts."

Her mother's long-lashed, golden gaze swept over her from head to toe. "I suppose it is charming for your eighteenth birthday extravaganza. After this when you come home with me to Paris for the summer it will be easy to switch back," she added consolingly.

"But I just put it in Mother. What would be the point of switching it back? I like how it is."

"Tiri, you know that as an up-and-coming model you need to portray yourself as an open canvas for the designers. Let your natural beauty ensnare them and then they can dress you up in their little fantasies for a little while. But I emphasize 'little while' because the girls that dye their hair or get tattoos to encapsulate one look never get as many jobs. You need to be natural and versatile—not a beautiful rocker girl every day."

Tiri suppressed something deep welling up inside of her. Something torn and hurt and withered to smithereens. She looked at her mother's gold, silken tresses. It was so natural—so damn cutthroat perfect. "You're right, Mum," she sighed. "When we get to Paris I'll have it dyed back."

"You are so beauteeful," her mum said, reverting back to English. She lightly cupped Tiri's chin, tilting her head from side to side. "You 'ave my eyes, but ozzer zan zat I cannot take credeet for zis siren face," she said with a soft smile.

Tiri smiled; it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Mum."

Tiri fell into a pile of plush pillows, her bare feet resting in the cool grass. The gardens of the estate had been turned into an outdoor ballroom fit for a grand wedding. Her family had really outdone themselves for her party.

All of the ancient trees on the property were dripping with lights and crystals. There were all of her favorite flowers everywhere: lotuses and deep purple orchids and tiger lilies. The jumble of colors fit the scheme, as silken pillows of every shape and size were scattered about around low tables, which were lined with thin glass troughs that contained delicate little floating tea candles in water. The night sky, shining stars and moon were overhead. Her great grandparent's favorite records played on the family's old record player; the scratchy sound and the glamorous tunes of the early 20's, 30's and 40's giving the night that extra element of ethereal decadence.

Laxmi slumped down next to her, shooing off a suitor who still wanted to dance with her. "Happy birthday to you," she sang under her breath to Tiri, her voice hoarse from laughing and singing and playfully screaming while frolicking with chasing boys.

Three hundred of her 'closest friends' were there: which really meant that all the girls from her private school who had been in her year had been invited, intermixed with boys from an all boys private school, plus a whole mess of male models through her mother's connections. Earlier she'd been carried around by four of the models on a chaise lounge throne fitted with intricate handlebars.

"This has been amazing," Tiri said, gazing up at the stars. A shooting star shimmered passed as if to confirm her assessment. "Oh wow!"

"You have to make a wish now," Laxmi said dreamily.

"Ok." Tiri closed her eyes very tight. A pause of ten seconds passed. "Done."

"Now don't tell me or it won't come true."

"Can I tell you what it was after it's come true?" Tiri asked pensively.

"Yes," Laxmi answered thoughtfully. "But only then."

"Will Tiri O'Connell please report to the stage," her Uncle Will interrupted in a goofy nasally voice as he spoke into a microphone. "I repeat: will the guest of honor, Miss Birthday Girl, please report to the stage."

Tiri rolled to an upright seated position, peering curiously at the large deck off of the back of the estate, which had been converted to a stage for the evening apparently. Several people spotted her and pulled her up, beckoning her towards the stage.

She awkwardly stood in front of a sea of faces. There was a noise behind her and she turned to see a large outdoor theater screen unfurling. A projector started on and the filtering light composed a film on screen. Tiri watched as scenes from the classic film 'Cleopatra' played out. Tiri was watching, riveted, when all of a sudden she felt a large male hand take her hand in his and he started saying the lines along with Antony.

Tiri turned and she was staring into the unbelievably gorgeous face of Manuel Casablancas—world famous film star. She gasped and felt her face heat up. Had she fallen asleep in the pillows? She gave herself a mental shake… No, he was still there, and was still repeating lines with amazing depth and accuracy. He finished his lines to riotous applause and wolf whistles.

Manuel Casablancas was smiling at her, and he had her hand in his still!

As she was still trying to process this all in her father and uncle took center stage. They were joined by a man who looked to be about a decade their senior, so in about his sixties. She blinked several times when she realized who he was: Manuel's father, legendary filmmaker Raul Casablancas.

"I hope you are all having a good time tonight!" Tiri's father said into the microphone. A voice in the crowd shouted 'Hell yeah!' and then another shouted 'Marry me Manuel!' People laughed in response. "Good! Glad to hear it! As you all know, it's my daughter Evelyn's eighteenth birthday tonight, and we have something really special to surprise her with." He gestured to Tiri. "Come over here darling."

Feeling completely put on the spot, Tiri went to stand by the group of men on the stage. She felt Manuel's muscular arm go around her shoulders in a friendly gesture, making the cool metal of her necklace press into the back of her neck.

"These two lovebirds are going to be starring in a movie together!" her Uncle Will burst out, gesturing at Manuel and her.

Manuel's arm tightened more securely around her, decidedly more than just friendly. He nuzzled her cheek. "Nice to meet you Evelyn O'Connell. I've heard many great things about you," he whispered in her ear.

She felt a shiver trail down her spine, completely at odds with the fact that she also felt like she was going to hurl or faint—or both.

It was Raul Casablancas' turn to take the microphone. "Hello everyone, Raul Casablancas here. Now, we're not going to be doing a remake of Cleopatra…but considering what our film project is about it felt like a good opening. We are actually going to do a film centered on the Egyptian past and some of the O'Connell family's history. As we all know, the O'Connell's have had a lot of luck when it comes to uncovering the treasures of Egypt—and my friends and business partners here, Brad and Will, have shared some of their amazing stories of how it all happened. So we all decided that we were going to create this film—and who better to star as the leading lady than the young and very beautiful Evelyn Nefertiri O'Connell herself! Trust me, you will all be in for a very special treat when this film comes out!"

Tiri's father turned to her. "Happy birthday love! You're going to be a star!"

There was a thundering crash of applause and exclamations of delight. Tiri turned and saw that a still image had replaced the film on screen: it was a houte couture picture of her dressed as an ancient Egyptian princess. She had done it at sixteen while she was staying in Paris with her mother. Tiri felt her cheeks heat up in a red-hot blush, and on the inside she was screaming bloody murder. Instead, she gave a brief speech about being honored. Fireworks started going off in celebration.

It was 3 A.M. and, except for a select few, all of the party guests were gone. Tiri, Laxmi, Tiri's father and uncle, Grandpa Alex, her mum and Raul Casablancas and his handsome son were seated around the O'Connell's grand dining table (it once belonged to King Henry VIII.) Leftover birthday cake and a fresh pot of tea were making their rounds. They were discussing the upcoming film project.

"Now, I know you're supposed to have Evelyn for the summer, Michèle, but seeing how the circumstances are I'm sure you won't mind if we steal her, would you?" her father asked.

Her mother Michèle stopped pretending to eat her tiny sliver of cake. "Oh no, not at all. Zis is an amazing opportunity for Tiri. I would not want her to miss out on zis for ze world!"

Her parent's genuinely smiled at each other for the first time in eighteen years.

Uncle Will gleefully rubbed his hands together. "All right! Great! Looks like this show will definitely be going on the road then!"

There was a smattering of delighted murmurs and clinks of water glasses in celebration. Raul Casablancas addressed Grandpa Alex: "I must admit I've been a fan of your family for years Dr. O'Connell. There is something so awe-inspiring about ancient Egyptian culture—and I love that your family is full of go-getters that have been exploring it for the better part of a century…" He paused, looking down at his plate before looking back up at Grandpa Alex, his eyes imploring. "I was wondering, could you give us the honor of experiencing your expertise by showing us around your Egypt? It would be the most amazing way to brush up on our history before filming starts."

Tiri, who had just been going through the motions ever since her 'future stardom' had been announced, finally snapped to attention at this. Starring in a movie had never been a top priority of hers, but Egypt... She'd never been to Egypt before; had, in fact, been dying to go since she was a little girl but was always told it was too dangerous for her.

Her grandfather seemed to size the room up, his gaze lingering on his sons and Tiri. He smiled in utter delight. "First of all, call me Alex—I'll have none of this 'Dr. O'Connell' nonsense. That's just something that's been heaped on me because of my contributions in the archeological world… And second of all," he said, his smile ever-widening, if it were at all possible, "you are all in for the adventure of a lifetime! Egypt, here we come!"

A/N: Next stop: Egypt! :D Please R&R! I'd love to know what you think so far :)
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Namesake